


Stressed Romance

by MagnanimousTwit



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Acting, Consensual Sex, Dating, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kisses, First Meetings, Stress, charity - Freeform, unicef
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnanimousTwit/pseuds/MagnanimousTwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After one of the most embarrassing moments of Benedict's life in a lingerie shop he in now way belonged in, he finds a beautiful girl who is naive to him, but can teach him how to laugh at himself. She's charitable, kind, and can deal with his stress for work in a very kind way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out my tumblr: http://magnanimoustwit.tumblr.com/
> 
> I take one-shot requests and really, really appreciate prompts. If you use tumblr you're better off following me there.

Chapter 1

Benedict could be the kindest man at his best of moments, but there were points when he was overwhelmed. When there was one fan too many, he could reason with himself, but when a swarm of twenty wouldn’t let him walk down the street even after he posed for pictures and signed shirts, he lost his mind. Not that he could ever show it any more, or people may think he’d snapped, but he needed a minute alone. Too far from home, Benedict resorted for the second best solitude – a near empty London shop.

It was just inside a small inlet street, like a gardened alley, and he’d just ducked inside without really looking to see what it was. Turned out, horrifying enough, to be a quiet lingerie shop. But at the very least only two women were inside, one wearing a name tag, and the other looking down. Usually when working, people didn’t bother him if they did recognize him, and if that one woman looked up, he could deal with a single person. Pretending to browse, he only needed _five minutes_ , then he’d find a cab. Just five minutes.

Turning in the small shop, his leg bumped a table he didn’t see. It made a screech as the legs shifted over the tile, and he felt like a rhinoceros trying to navigate the small underwear shop. That one woman, standing near changing rooms, snorted and when Benedict looked up, she looked away, suppressing the laugh. He risked a glance to the employee, who just ignored him. Relieved, he went back to turning, only to hit a rack of bras and knock it over.

Bubbling, smooth laughter met his ears immediately. The voice was kind but she clearly never laughed so hard – that woman by the changing room. “Sorry.” Benedict spoke out, lifting the rack. It teetered, bras fell, and he could swear nothing had ever been so embarrassing.

“It’s fine, just leave it.” The shop keep came from behind the cashier counter once he had it standing. She began picking up after his mess and Benedict cringed.

Was there anything more bumbling than rhinoceros? A drunken rhinoceros. That’s how he felt. Very carefully this time, Benedict moved, the laughing woman controlling herself at least. He got to a more open part of the store between the door and the dressing room, pleased there was absolutely nothing to bump into. This lasted _thirty seconds_ before he walked a little too near a shelf and his elbow knocked it loose.

The laughing was back and the shop keep had only _just_ fixed his last mess up. She let out a groan. “Alright, out, both of you out now. I’m banning you!” The older woman pointed wildly between Benedict and the laughing girl.

She fell silent, and he felt sick with idiocy. “No, it was me, she can stay and I can go. I’m sorry.” He rambled politely, picking up the wooden shelf. Only he had no idea how it worked, trying to put it back up.

“Out, go, go now and go fast.” The shopkeeper took the shelf from his quickly, still glaring at the other woman.

Awkward as could be, he tucked his arms to his sides and made the straightest line out of that shop. He was very closely followed by the other woman, her arms folded over her chest. Not at all his idea of a calming experience, and there were still people in the street, so he stood a bit awkwardly. The woman began to pass, then looked at him.

When his eyes met hers he kept thinking how hard she laughed, and if he were anyone else it really was funny. They both broke out into annoyingly loud guffaws at the same time. “Go away!” The employee yelled, the two of them standing just outside.

It didn’t help, and he couldn’t stop chuckling. Eventually the woman banned with him had to grab Benedict’s arm and she toted him away. She gained control just a bit quicker than him, a hand over her mouth, then looked up and Benedict. “S-sorry.” She gasped with humour. “I can’t believe how helpless you are.”

“Oh, God, that was horrible.” He ran a hand over his face, only a little laugh coming out before he calmed and was taking in short breaths. The young woman, red hair in her face, was looking up at him with shaking shoulders, holding back fully. “You weren’t exactly helpful! All your giggling really put me off.”

She snorted. “I can’t help it!” She took her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’re just- You’re…” He stiffened, thinking she’d make some joke about a clumsy Sherlock or some other role Benedict played. “Such a dufus!”

There was a silent second where he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or wanted to joke back. _Relieved_ , Benedict decided and gave a smile. “I am. I feel like a full grown child.” He agreed with her. “I’m sorry you got kicked out, too. What’s your name?”

“No it’s fine.” She waved away the first part of what he said. “And I’m going to shorten my ridiculous name – everyone calls me Eve.” Her hand went out and Benedict shook it.

He was, however, interested to know her ridiculous name considering his own. “Why do you say you’re names ridiculous?”

She raised a brow. “Really?” He nodded. He had to know. “It’s Temperance. Temperance Evelyn Dillon Sinclair.”

“I like Temperance.” Benedict told her, catching that the nickname was from her middle name. But Temperance was poetic, it was fancy, and it somehow matched her orange head of hair.

“You’re the first. Call me what you will.” She gestured at him freely, a smile on her face. Perhaps even flattered. Then her look turned pointed. “And this is when you introduce yourself in return…”

He hesitated. Did she really not know, or did she just want to hear it herself? “You don’t know who I am?” He guessed by her less than knowing, expectant expression.

Temperance, he decided, curled her lip and scrunched her nose as she scoffed. “Should I? You’re a stranger I met trolling a lingerie store.” She teased him.

“Well, I’ve got an arse name as well.” Benedict didn’t know if he should be insulted, or just glad he wasn’t signing anything else. The idea of that alone put an ache in his hand. “It’s Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch. Just sort of feels like it needs a lot of commas.”

“Ha, that’s as bad as mine.” Temperance giggled at him, bouncing from foot to foot. “Well, then, what do you do, that I should apparently know you?”

He rubbed one arm, wishing he didn’t have to answer. “I’m on TV.” He stated. Which could be taken as news anchor, but then again that made his prior comment of her not knowing him conceited. “And movies. I’m an actor.”

Her mouth was pursed slightly in thought. “Oh… Famous? I don’t really watch telly. Or many movies. I don’t own a TV.” Temperance gave her head a gentle shake. “Sorry.”

“It’s good.” Benedict held a hand up to stop her apologies. “I don’t want to be known right now – I was hiding when I went into the shop that I just promptly destroyed.”

She gave a toothy grin, and he knew very well she wanted to laugh at him again. Chuckling, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t own a TV.” He repeated when it came back to him.

“Oh, no, I’ve only just moved back to London.” Temperance held her arms around herself, shifting one foot over pavement in a twisting fashion. “I was in Côte d’Ivoire- Um, Africa, because a lot of people just don’t remember where it is. I lived there for a year.”

He looked her over completely on accident – it just seemed that if she lived in Africa, she’d dress more like it or be more tan. But Temperance was fair skinned and wore a plain white button up and jeans. “Are you sure?” Benedict joked.

Understanding the joke, Temperance pushed the hair from her face. “ _Yes_. UNICEF. With lots of sunscreen.”

“You spent a year doing a charity?” Benedict reeled back a half step. “Most people spend a week, maybe a month.”

“And I had just broken up with my boyfriend of six years, was in therapy for my dad’s death for three years, and got fired from my part time job and had to work with my mum again.” Temperance listed off lightly. Like each thing wasn’t horrible. “Then my therapist suggested charity work for a week, and it was actually really healthy for me so I stayed for sixty more. It was great!”

If she hadn’t seemed so perky, if she hadn’t been smiling, Benedict may think her mental. But Temperance was calm, happy, _silly_ , and it sort of felt contagious. “So why’d you come back to good old London?” He asked her.

She gave a half shrug. “Oh, my friend Kelly is getting married.” Then she gasped and a hand went to hover her mouth. “Oh my God, I left Kelly in the shop! She’s was trying on bridal lingerie.”

“Oh, I should let you get back to her.” Benedict awkwardly pointed towards the shop, feeling bad that they’d been talking for several minutes.

“No, I’m banned.” Temperance gave him and obvious look. “I’ll just text her. Plus now I don’t have to be dragged to the china shop for wedding plates.”

As she took out her phone, Benedict shifted. “Would you like to get lunch with me?” He took a leap, hoping for a yes.

Temperance looked up from the screen. “If I say yes, can it be Chinese? I’m eating everything in existence since I got back, but I haven’t had Chinese.”

“Yes, we can get Chinese.” Benedict chuckled.

“Okay, ten seconds, because I can barely chew gum and walk at the same time, let alone text.” She gave a small smirk, looking back down to her phone.

As Temperance texted, Benedict got a cab. He knew London well enough to know good Chinese was not in walking distance. And if they were taking a cab anywhere, they may as well go somewhere really good. Leaning in the window he told the cabbie the street and intersection, then opened the back door. A second later Temperance was coming off the curb and he gestured for her to go in first. She smiled and moved over the seat to the other side of the cab.

“Okay…” She began lightly, in the cab. Benedict looked over, her phone still in her hand. “Benedict, hey. You’re Google’s most popular Benedict.”

He frowned when she showed him her screen. She was looking him up. “I really don’t want to talk about work. Can I repeat that I was pathetically hiding when you laughed at me and we met?” Benedict reminded her.

“We’re not talking about it – I’m not even looking up what you do. I wanted your age because I’d guess thirty two…” She paused a moment. “But this says thirty six. I suck.”

“You could have just asked me.” He felt a wave of calm that she wasn’t doing research, putting her phone away. “How old are you?”

Temperance looked over at him. “Guess.”

Rubbing his hand over his jeans, he took her in. Speech was certainly off – she chatted like she was young and was bright; and she looked young, very young, but looks were deceiving. However Benedict figured underestimating was better than overestimating, to keep any woman from getting angry with him. She looked mid-twenties, so that was exactly what he said.

“Twenty five?”

She crossed her legs with a sweet look. “Twenty seven. You’re better at this than me, for sure.” Temperance spoke over a small beeping. Her phone.

He wasn’t a snooping person, but Benedict glanced as she took the mobile from her pocket. A text sat there with _Kelly_ in big letters. He didn’t read it, looking out the window, because it was very normal for a friend to text back when ditched. More or less, anyway, considering she was thrown out.

“Ah, crap.” She suddenly groaned. “How do you find a message if you accidentally exit it?”

Realising she was asking him, Benedict looked over. “The menu.” He smiled at her frustrated expression.

“Where’s the menu?” She looked uselessly at the touch screen. “I see the internet button, that little home button, and this magnifying glass. Oh, sorry!” She suddenly whispered at him, looking up. “I’m bad at this, I’ve never had a phone before. I got this three days ago and Kelly put all my numbers in. I’ll just ignore it.”

Benedict never met someone so lost in technology, and the amusement just softened his heart. “Give it, I’ll show you.” He put his hand out.

Temperance immediately complied and leaned to the middle of the cab to see. “It’s this one.” He touched the little rectangular page icon next to the internet icon, the menu coming up. Then to her inbox. “There, that’s the message. Just tap that.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She breathed and took the phone back. Temperance didn’t return to the other side of the seat, leaning as she texted. “Even my mother is better with a phone than I am.” She admitted. “I can do anything else, but phones elude me.”

He would have made a joke, a proper one coming to mind, but the cab pulled over. Benedict had his wallet out and was paying before Temperance even unbuckled. They both slid from the cab and she tripped stepping up the curb. He paused to see if she’d fall, but she caught her footing and blew a raspberry.

“You’re buffoon coordination has rubbed off on me.” Temperance wiggled a brow at Benedict.

“No, I was a rhino. That was just a trip.” He informed her, a hand instinctively sliding to the small of her back as they walked towards the restaurant he chose. Temperance didn’t react, so he hardly noticed his own action. “And please, please don’t talk about that. I’m still horrified.”

The subject dropped as she gave a velvet laugh. They got inside the restaurant, smelling like noodles and spice and sweet, very few people in for the late lunch hour. It was two twenty, but considering Temperance agreed he assumed she’d not eaten anything, just like he hadn’t.

When ordering he kept in mind that he couldn’t eat like he wanted, having to keep the thin and often hungry shape of Sherlock Holmes. Filming was starting in a few weeks, which explained the insanity of people on the streets. He got something simple, and Temperance got dumplings, which he thought was ridiculous. People didn’t usually want to eat Chinese _specifically_ for dumplings.

“So what movies or TV do you watch?” He asked once the notion of her not having a TV bothered him enough.

Temperance was leaning back in her chair, dumpling in hand, chewing. She bobbed her head as she chewed, then swallowed. “My mum never got cable, and I lived with her, so _no_ telly programs, but we watched movies. Usually black and white or meaningful sob stories.” She answered him. “But when I got to pick, war movies, Marvel films, anything really action.”

“You like action.” Benedict stated, taking in another fork full of his chicken dish.

“I like all sorts of things, but when your mother makes you watch romance and nothing but, you starve for another genre.” Temperance elaborated. “In Côte d’Ivoire we only really watched the news, or this weird American comedy I don’t know the name of. If I was lucky enough to get internet on my laptop I watched Doctor Who.”

He gave a snort. “Of course you watch Doctor Who.”

“I am British, after all.” Temperance joked with lips against her dumpling, then taking a bite. She spoke with food in her mouth, hiding behind a hand. “My dad was a Whovian since childhood. I grew up with old taped episodes because we really never had cable.”

Benedict didn’t watch much television of his own, but there were a few things he knew about Doctor Who. “My mother was in Doctor Who.” He began, and Temperance sat up just a bit. “Thirteen episodes, I think? In 67, 77, and 87. I don’t remember the characters.”

There was a pause and he could see her jaw shift in thought. “Who’s your mother?”

“Wanda Ventham.”

“Oh.” She expressed, then there was a light in her eyes. She’d needed a moment to remember. “Right, yep. Faroon, Jean Rock, and Thea Ransome. The characters.”

“Ah, that’s right!” He moaned, knowing the names the moment she started. “So you’re really a Whovian?”

Her head shook. “No, it was drilled in because my dad thought she was a fox. I’m not a Whovian.” Temperance pointed at him, scolding, though he was too distracted with being slightly horrified that his mother was just called a fox. “I’ve seen reruns out of utter boredom, and I watched the new episodes with my dad. I hardly watch it anymore.”

Benedict held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t say it again.”

“So are you anorexic?” Temperance suddenly changed the subject, sitting straight for the first time in her chair. He had no clue what to say, he’d never been asked that, so he stared. “Just, you’re probably 135 lbs., 145 at best. A man your height and age should weigh 157 to 170 lbs., because you have a medium frame.”

Now that he understood the why, he sort of wanted to know how she could figure that out. “Why do you know that? I don’t think that’s common knowledge.”

She picked up her water, finger tapping the edge of the cup as she spoke. “My dad was a doctor. And I’m one of those annoying people who likes to blurt stuff out.” Temperance gave a small wink, and sipped at her water.

“Um, no, I don’t have a disorder.” He answered, smiling despite himself. “I lost the weight for a show, and we’re filming soon. The character is just thinner than I am. I’ve got a nutritionist.” Benedict assured her.

She put the cup down, sticking her thumb up for him. “Good, cool. But you should most definitely cheat that diet next time you go out because unless your character is sick, you’re probably thin enough.”

“Do I look sick?”

Temperance met his eyes. “Well, no, definitely not. You’re just thin.” She gestured to her plate. “Want a dumpling? They’re horribly not good for you.”

“No thanks.” He laughed quietly.

After lunch – Temperance spending five minutes near the end convincing him that she should pay for her own food – Benedict had in turn got her to agree to let him take her home in a cab. She gave the address of a simple building just out of the heart of London. It had actually been a better day, once he met her. It was unexpected but a relief, and Benedict kept wondering if it might be wise to see her again. He _wanted_ to, but should he?

“Have you ever made ice cream?” She questioned when he was about to ask for her number.

Benedict ran his tongue over his lip, confused. “No, never.” He answered comically.

Temperance held her hands together, shoulders raised as she hunched. “It is one of the most annoying things in the world, but you can put _anything_ in it. Any kind of ice cream you can think of – even rum, though I don’t suggest it.” She spoke like she were telling a story on a stage, passionate and exaggerated. “If you ever want a sore arm and the greatest ice cream ever, you can bring your flavours by.”

Not a delay in his mind, and Benedict knew that she was asking him to meet again before he had the chance to. “I am looking forward to it.” He watched her slight nervousness turn into a full smile. “If you give me your number I can warn you if I’m coming over.”

“I’m not sure I know it.” She hesitated a moment.

He asked for her phone. Temperance handed it over, and Benedict did the only thing he knew how. Texted himself once he saved his number into her contacts. In his pocket, the phone buzzed. After saving her number into his own mobile, he felt glad to finally have a name inside that wasn’t someone he worked with – friends or not.

“I’ve got you, and you’ve got me.” He mentioned as he handed back her phone.

“Well, thank you.” She sang slightly. “For the taxi, and saving my sanity from being Maid of Honour for a day. As if I need to see what Kelly is going to wear when she has sex.”

Benedict was laughing. “And how does one become a Maid of Honour?” He spoke sarcastically.

Temperance took the joke well, her smile so bright as she laughed that her small nose scrunched. The cab pulled over a bit too soon. In front of a tall building, only one flat inside hers. But Benedict would hopefully find a day to make ice cream and see that flat, as well as the woman who lived there. As she unbuckled, Temperance leaned across the back seat and kissed his cheek quickly.

“Really, thank you.” She popped open the door, saying her last goodbyes. “For the day, because you’re probably really busy. It was _hilarious._ ”

Then Temperance gave a wave and fled the cab. Benedict took a second, overly glad she had a good time, surprised in himself. Then he gave the cab driver his address near Hampstead Heath.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out my tumblr: http://magnanimoustwit.tumblr.com/
> 
> I take one-shot requests and really, really appreciate prompts. If you use tumblr you're better off following me there.

Chapter 2

 

Temperance was itching to look Benedict up every passing moment, more so as the days passed. He was fun and really a kind, bumbling baboon. In a good way. And that was exactly why she didn’t look him up or tell Kelly about it. She didn’t want to ruin the surprise of it or taint how she thought of him - he was just an actor, in the way Temperance just cut hair.

But there came a point when it was just this horrible waiting game. Temperance couldn’t call because she had made the plans. Ice cream. The next move was completely his because life was one giant game of chess. She ended up spending more days then she was hired on in her mother’s hair salon, mostly dyeing hair. The chemicals never bothered her like they bothered her mother.

The rest of the time she was with Kelly preparing for a wedding that wasn’t for four more months. The fact that it was a chilly February meant nothing to the bride when dragging Temperance around London. A year in Africa, and she just had to return to London in the dead of winter.

But eventually Benedict did call. It was two days past a week later. She would complain, but ice cream in winter was her stupid idea, so seeing his name on her caller id, Temperance just picked it up. “Hello.”

“I’m sorry. I am the biggest idiot on the face of the planet and so forgetful you can yell at me if you want.” He instantly ranted.

Temperance smiled to herself and had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry, who is this?” She deadpanned, amazed in her own ability not to mess up the joke.

A beat. “Benedict. Benedict Cumberbatch – you invited me to make ice cream last week.” He answered very seriously. “I was that rhinoceros in the underwear store.”

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” She let out a full _Ha!_ , jolly.

When he spoke she could practically see the attitude on his face. “Wow, thanks for that. I only had a minor panic attack that I made such a small impression.”

Temperance fell onto her couch, the squeak breaking the quiet of her flat. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d believe me.” She rubbed her head where it had hit the arm of the couch, silently wincing. “And I’m not angry. I won’t yell at you.”

“It took nine days to call – I would be mad at me.”

“Yes, I was waiting with bated breath for you to ring me.” She teased. “It’s really fine, I was working all week.” She wouldn’t mention that was only because she couldn’t wait for him, despite how patient she made herself sound.

Benedict let out this breath that sounded relieved. “Well, if you’re not working too much, I’ve got the next three days off so we can have ice cream whenever you’re free.”

She had to make ice. But that wouldn’t take long, and she had a lot of ice trays. Then she needed to go to the market, but there was one a three minute walk down the road. “I’m good for today, tomorrow, or the next day.” Temperance smiled to herself. “So be here in an hour?”

“Deal.” He chuckled.

“Do you remember my address?”

Benedict didn’t hesitate to say, “Not one bit. You should probably tell me that.”

Temperance listed off her address, twice just to be sure he had it, and hung up. So she had an hour. After a run to the store for rock salt, whipping cream and milk, sure she had everything else she needed, she checked her freezer for ice. All her trays were already full, which meant she didn’t need to make ice at all. The rest of her time was spent making sure her flat was clean.

Just under an hour after, the buzzer went off for her flat. She escaped her kitchen to a call from the intercom. “Temperance, I brought fruit. And chocolate syrup.” And she gave a laugh that he chose to call her _Temperance_ in lieu of Eve.

Temperance pushed the talk button. “Come on up, handy man.” She teased and buzzed him in.

On the fourth floor, it would take him another minute to get up. While she had the time she pulled her ice cream maker from a cupboard, still very clean from when she moved in last month. Though it was hand cranked, which was as obnoxious as ever. Then there was a knock at her door.

“It’s open.” She moved to the kitchen door frame, a few feet from her front door. Temperance only really locked it at night, so Benedict let himself in.

He was holding a grocery bag and dressed as casually as before, but in a week he looked very different. No change in weight, she’d guess, and his hair was still a light brown, but his handsome face was worn. _Stress_. But when Benedict closed the door and looked up to her, a smile sat crooked on his lips and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

Temperance took the bag from his hand. “I’m glad you came.” She told him casually, turning to put the bag on the counter with the ice cream maker.

“Me, too.” Benedict spoke lightly, closer than before behind her. As a hand touched her side Temperance didn’t move, standing thoughtfully. He _sounded_ stressed as well. “I really liked you, and I should have made time days ago to see you.”

Not sure how to take his tone, she turned to him. “It’s fine.” Temperance smiled.

“You look nice.” He complimented and fixed the thin strap of her tank top onto her shoulder.

She didn’t think of a tank top and jeans as very nice, but Temperance was flattered. “And you’re very handsome. A bit dapper.” She offered back, fixing a half undone button of his polo shirt.

As she was going to step back and suggest they start to make ice cream, because it did take a while, Benedict curled the end of her hair around his finger. Temperance took his hand in habit of having children playing with her hair in Côte d’Ivoire to only be surprised by lips cascading down on hers. Suddenly she was taking part in the kiss, knowing this at least wasn’t out of reaction. She sincerely liked him enough to allow it, and take part.

“I was actually really upset you didn’t call.” Temperance forced out as their mouths parted just a bit, her lips still brushing against his in the words.

Benedict kissed her again, taking her bottom lip in between his. “You should be.” He murmured into her mouth, the tickling making her gasp.

Hands drew her in and arms wrapped around her. Temperance slid hers to his back, feeling soft flesh over hard muscle. “I thought you wouldn’t want to come over.” She whispered, pressed to her fridge.

“And miss homemade ice cream? Never.” Benedict’s hands slid down her, palms kneading her hips, then thighs. Temperance cooperated as he pulled her legs up around him, biting his lip.

It was impossible to believe that she’d do this. Temperance spent a years away from anyone she may like, focusing on others. Especially after her retched break up a month before leaving London. But she spent so much time working with others, doing charity, she didn’t realise how much she missed being touched and kissed. Her self-control was lost in the very moment Benedict reminded her of it.

So much so that she was licking the tip of his tongue and tasting cigarettes. His hands were so far under her as they kissed that fingertips dug into her inner thighs. Her heart skipped beats and raced at each new thing she noticed, like his chest pressing her to the fridge, her own bare toes curling, and how he’d bite her lips every time he drew away.

The next time Benedict was pulling away, he planted a sloppy kiss to her chin. His nose pushed to her throat and Temperance bared it for him, lifting her head. His tongue slicked over her pulse point, and then that was when Benedict pulled away, gasping. He stopped kissing, touching, and barely dropped her slow enough for Temperance to catch her footing. A hand was planted on either side of her and he held himself arm’s length from the fridge, head down.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He pushed away and ran a hand over his face. More stress lied there, and now full regret. She felt disappointed. “I- I’m really not… This guy. This grabby, assaulting man. I’m just _busy_ and I’m sexually frustrated, and you’re very beautiful.”

 _So it wasn’t her_ , at the very least, that he was regretting. Just what he’d done. “I should go.” Benedict flexed a hand and didn’t look at her once.

As he moved to go, Temperance moved into the small hall behind Benedict and grabbed his arm. “Don’t go.” She told him confidently. “It’s _fine_. Completely – I even enjoyed it.”

Rarely did Temperance get flustered, but as blue and green eyes met hers she flushed at what she had said, and who to. “I like you.” She went on. “So I’m not going to be upset if you decide to stay and make ice cream, or even if you decide to _ravish_ me again, but I will be upset if you leave.”

It was like seeing a flame flicker, how a smile appeared on his face, then was hidden by his hand as he rubbed his chin. “Ice cream.” Benedict stated.

“Alright, good.” She let go of his arm and walked back into the slim kitchen, opening the fridge without thinking of how she was pressed against it so she could get the milk and cream. “You’re a fantastic kisser, by the way.”

He chuckled as he came to stand at the counter with her. “Um, actually, I’ve never quite been kissed like that.” He pointed at her, then gestured at the fridge. “It was, well, whimsical and much better than expected.”

“Expected…” She repeated with a mischievous look to him. He looked very caught in the headlights. “Alright, expected. I can deal with expected after whimsical. Never heard snogging called whimsical before.”

“I wasn’t planning anything, my words just came out wrong.” Benedict told her instantly. “And you’d already used fantastic. I thought _bloody brilliant_ would be tactless.”

Temperance gave a laugh and pushed the long hair from her face. “Saying bloody brilliant would have just been zealous, not tactless, considering I’m at that perfect immature age to understand.”

“Well, then there’s your compliment.” Benedict suggested lightly. “Now, how the hell do you make ice cream?”

 

 

 

 

Somehow they’d succeeded in making chocolate and blueberry ice cream. Temperance never had this sort of success, but a little more than an hour and a half after they were on her couch with full bowls of their spoils. Both sat in slouches with feet kicked up on her coffee table.

“I need a television. With a dvd player.” She claimed after a while, words slurred with her spoon pressed to her tongue. They’d been sitting in silence a moment too long and it came to mind. “I haven’t seen Avengers yet.” Temperance admitted. “I want to – Tom Hiddleston is an excellent actor.”

Benedict shot her a look, pulling his spoon from his mouth. “You know who he is, but you don’t know who I am. Great, I snogged a girl who knows my friend but not me.” He was teasing, but Temperance was sure it did bother him as well.

She laughed lightly. “Do a war movie or a Marvel movie, and I will.”

“I’ve done a war movie. Two; one was the cold war!” He bragged and sat up a bit. Wondering, she looked over at him. “I didn’t have a major role, and I died, but I was in War Horse with Tom.”

She’d just seen War Horse with her mother when she got back, not even a month back. Temperance stared at Benedict. “Really?” She tested her recall, playing the movie in her head.

“I was the one who owned the other horse. Maj. Jamie Stewart.” He elaborated.

It hit her instantly. Not the name, that wasn’t helpful, but the other horse. “Oh! Oh, you were that competitive basta- you look weird with a moustache.”

“Thank you.” He spoke sarcastically and ate some ice cream. “I was also in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.”

“I didn’t see that one.” Temperance crossed her legs at the ankle and shifted a little further down into her couch. He smiled a bit. “So I’ve seen at least one thing with you! And considering your stellar personality, you’re a great actor. And there’s your compliment.”

Benedict was grinning, looking ridiculous with his spoon in his mouth. “So what do you do?” He asked after a moment. “You’re just out of Africa, after a year, but you can afford this flat and a shockingly comfortable couch? What sort of job pays that way?”

Temperance shoved her spoon into her bowl. “I work for my mother.” She told him. “Which pays crap because it’s my mother. But you forget my father is a dead, successful doctor. And I’ve not spent much of my savings while I was away.”

When met with silence, she looked over and saw quiet pity. “Oh, stop making that face. I’m over it.” Temperance nudged his arm.

“I didn’t know I was making a face.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She was again pushing hair out of her face. It was very long and kept falling forward.

After she’d done it, Benedict was laughing, turned to her. “You look ridiculous!”

Temperance gave a joking sneer. “We can’t all be perfectly beautiful.”

He leaned forward, putting his ice cream on the coffee table. “Come on, I don’t mean it that way.” Benedict faced her.

His intention was clear so she faced him and let the man mess with her hair. Scraping fingers re-established her part while sending a shiver down her spine. Then he picked up strands and moved them, and Temperance felt prickly, in a good sense. Benedict ran his fingers through the front, her few shorter strands that had been bang length the year before, but now were long enough to tuck behind her ear. And that was what he did.

“Now you look beautiful.”

“Flattery, dear Benedict, will get you everywhere.” Temperance laughed at her own joke.

The way he was looking, she thought he may lean in and kiss her again, and her giggle died. But Benedict only wiggled a brow. “I’ll remember that one.” He leaned away, took up his ice cream again, and sat back to where he was.

She finished her bowl before him and got up to put it in the sink. There was more left over in the freezer, but she couldn’t eat it, her stomach complaining at all the sweet. As she passed the small table in her hall she knocked her keys down. When Temperance bent to pick them up, her hair fell into her face. As she went to push it back, she paused and instead of combing her fingers through, she only tucked it behind her ear.

Coming back into the living room, Benedict looked to her. “I’ve got two work things in three weeks.” He piped up.

“Oh, now you want to talk about work?” She teased. It always seemed to be the thing he avoided. Which she was fine with, considering her own naivety.

“Don’t interrupt me.” He slated with jest. “I was going to ask you to come with me. I’ll even buy you dresses.”

Temperance could hear his voice deepen. He was hoping for her to say yes; the bribe alone said that. “You’ll buy me dresses…” She repeated and sat on the arm of the couch.

“Pretty ones?” Benedict looked up at her, brows furrowing together.

“I’m not saying no, I’m wondering why I can’t wear my own clothes.” She crossed her legs. His eye shifted down over her, but then back up to her face. “I have things besides jeans.”

“They’re pretty casual, so I’m sure even jeans would pass.” He told her.

Clasping her hands over her knee, she thought about it. Three weeks, and she’d see Benedict again at the very least. That meant he _wanted_ to know her. “Well, how stupid would I be to say no?”

Benedict rubbed his hands together. “Not stupid at all. Smart, maybe, because I work too much and I’m not exactly handsome.” He ranted quietly. “And I’m _nine_ years older than you. God, I hadn’t even realised how old I am.”

“Stop.” Temperance slid onto the couch, her bright mood ruined. Benedict closed his mouth. “Because all I hear when people complain about themselves is _blah, blah, blah_. And you’re more intelligent than that sort of babble, okay?” She looked at his bowl, seeing it was empty, and took it. “Want more?”

His eyes had been locked on her face, and Benedict had to look down to know what she meant. “Ice cream, no.” He answered and she put it on the coffee table. “So will you come with me? To at least one.”

Temperance sat back next to him, on the opposite side as before and much closer considering the smaller space. “If you want, I’ll go to both. When?”

“Um, the South Bank Sky Arts Awards on March 12th.” Benedict spoke after a bit of thought. “And the Broadcasting Press Guild Awards on the 14th. It’s a lunch, so casual as could be. Though the first one you may want to where an actual dress. Nothing grand.”

“You’re really sounding concerned after telling me I can wear anything.” Temperance bantered. He winced a bit. “I’ll wear something… blue. And nice. I’ll even tame my evil hair.”

“No.” Benedict pulled at the ends of her red, wavy hair, constantly going everywhere. “I like your hair.”

Backing up the inches she could lean, Temperance fluffed up her hair with both hands, feeling silly. “How about like this?” She struck a coy pose, shoulders forward and hands down.

He was laughing, slightly doubled over himself. Giggling along she ran her fingers through her messy hair and tucked it behind both ears.

When it had calmed, Benedict looked down thoughtfully. “Temperance, I really am sorry about kissing you earlier.”

“What?” She paused, body turned slightly to him. “We already talked about this. It’s fine, great even. You don’t do that sort of thing, I got a snog out of it, and we’re both really good at it.”

“That sums it up, but it’s not what I want to talk about.” Benedict was careful not to make it sound serious, but Temperance still kept silent in waiting for what he may say. “In the past – only really three times, if it counts – I have always been that friend turned boyfriend after months of me hating myself for being just a friend, but I’m far too old for that, and I have to know. Could we ever… date? Or am I thinking so far ahead of myself that I should just go home now.”

Temperance drew in a single breath before she began, knowing it was best not to torture him with a pause. “Last time a guy asked me out he had a hand on my ass, so if you ever think you’re ahead of yourself, you are sorely mistaken. And I really, really like you.” She smiled at him. “But–”

“Okay, I’ll go.” He despaired before she could speak.

As he began to stand, she laughed and grabbed his arm, pulling Benedict back down. “I was going to say: _but_ you should know I really only dated one guy, and I may not do the whole girlfriend thing very well.”

Benedict started to smile, positively dorky and charming all in one. “So you’ll go on a date with me?”

“Yes.” Temperance told him honestly. Any day, any time, no matter what, she would say yes. She’d been in a horrible relationship so long with nice enough men passing her by because of it that she wasn’t going to let the best she’d ever met slip away. “Though I don’t know why you’d ever want to date me.”

“Because I think you’re funny, and you’re good. I like talking to you and you don’t even care about me being an actor. You’re not a fan who may be biased about me because of a character or another celebrity with another schedule as insane as my own, because right now I can’t stand either.” He winced at his own words, clearly not seeing that Temperance was feeling very praised. “I don’t mean it the way it sounds – I’m not settling. You’re more than I could ever want; I’m reaching. And if _I’m_ not allowed to complain about myself, you can’t do it either.”

At his last point, Benedict pointed between them and Temperance was smiling like a giddy child. But she wasn’t. She was a very pleased woman, and to show this, this time she was the one leaning in. She was the one to press her lips against his. And she was the one feeling all the gratitude when he began to kiss her back.

The best part being when Benedict took charge and pressed a hand to her back, bring her closer. Temperance could tell herself in a heartbeat that not in six years had her last boyfriend made her feel this way, or even attempt so little romance, and she would know this to be true. That alone meant everything to her, no matter how short or long this lasted.

 


End file.
